


First Kiss

by Kayim



Category: Leverage, The Losers - All Media Types
Genre: Community: fic_promptly, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-03
Updated: 2013-09-03
Packaged: 2018-04-24 21:45:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4936459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayim/pseuds/Kayim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eliot didn't mean to.  He's pretty sure he'll blame Jensen anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> I just found this on my DW account written from prompt of my own. I've backdated it to the date I originally posted it to DW.

Jensen was asleep on the sofa, his long legs curled up under him, in a position that made Eliot's back ache from just looking. He'd fallen asleep less than twenty minutes after arriving at the apartment, still in the same scruffy tee that he'd been wearing last time Eliot had spoken to him over Skype, which was two days earlier. He'd managed a few mumbled apologies for turning up on Eliot's doorstep like he had, before collapsing, still fully dressed, on the sofa.

Eliot stood in the corner of the room, hesitant to get too close in case he woke Jensen up. He watched as Jensen's chest rose and fell, a soft rhythm that he subconsciously found himself matching. There were a dozen things that he needed to do, but somehow none of them seemed quite as important as making sure nothing disturbed his friend.

He didn't know how long he stood there for, but it was enough that his legs began to ache and he found himself sitting on the floor with his back to the wall when Jensen started to wake.

Eliot recognized the momentary confusion - waking up somewhere you didn't expect was terrifying for that brief instant - and waited until Jensen had picked up his glasses from the floor beside him.

"Jay?"

Jensen looked up, fuzziness obvious on his face. "Eliot?"

"You turned up here about three hours ago," Eliot explained, walking over towards the sofa. He perched himself on the edge of the middle seat and reached out to push back the stray tuft of Jensen's hair that was sticking up. It made him look about 12 years old.

"Shit, I'm sorry man." Jensen started to push himself up, apparently ready to grab his gear and leave, despite the fact that it was now the middle of the night. "I must have just gotten here on autopilot."

Eliot's stomach lurched. The idea that Jensen felt comfortable enough at his apartment to make it there when he was feeling vulnerable meant something. Eliot wasn't entirely sure exactly what it meant, but he knew from his own experience that there were very few places he would head to in the same situation.

"Not a problem," he said, vaguely aware that his hand was still in Jensen's hair, gently running his fingers through it, almost petting his head. "You know you're always welcome here."

Jensen curled into the touch and smiled at him. "You're my favorite thug, you know that?"

Eliot felt himself moving before he knew what he was doing. He was already close enough to Jensen that it didn't take much of an effort to lean over him, and by the time he was close enough to feel the warmth of Jensen's breath, he felt like he had no control left over his body.

It was barely even a kiss. Nothing more than a brush of his lips against Jensen's. But somehow it made his blood rush and his head spin.

He pulled away in order to catch his own own breath, and felt like he should say something. He wanted to apologize for taking advantage, for presuming that Jensen felt the same way, for making a move that he certainly hadn't intended.

He waited for Jensen to say something, the silence bearing down on him painfully. Jensen looked shocked, his blue eyes wide and filled with a confusion that Eliot knew was no longer caused by his just-woken state.

And then Jensen grinned.

"About fucking time."


End file.
